


A Deal, A Price

by Gamermel7



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 08:07:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17597501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gamermel7/pseuds/Gamermel7
Summary: “It’s simple really. I want to be on the winning side. And recent events have shown that clearly, you are the winning side. Not Talon. All I ask for is my freedom, once the dust settles.” She shifted slightly in her handcuffs, which were very redundant considering she was inside a hard-light cell.Of course, caution should never be thrown to the wind when the Widowmaker is involved.“So then, do we have a deal?”///A LemonTeaMaker Fic of redemption, trust, and deal-making.





	1. The Deal

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Had this idea and needed to start on it! I haven't forgotten about Clock's Ticking, and that will be updated soon! Enjoy!

The cold metal bit hard into her skin. Something as primitive as metal cuffs still held their purpose. Yet nothing was as containing as the the two barrels of two different firearms on her temples. One wrong move, and if the pulse rounds didn’t kill her, the cold, steel, bullet of a revolver would. 

“Is this how the new Overwatch treats all their prisoners?” 

Her words came out through a curt tone. She imagined this wasn’t how a usual suspect would behave in a situation such as this. But she was far from a usual suspect. 

The Brit on her left sneered in response. “Not the best time for jokes, you bloody murderer.” The pistol on her left dug into her skin slightly deeper, eliciting only a blink in response to the hostility of the brunette’s words. 

Lena wasn’t usually like this. But this was an unusual circumstance. 

“Easy, partner. Don’t want to have to put you in handcuffs too.” Jesse spoke with his typical charm, only slightly laced with uncertainty that only those close to him would pick up on. 

Amélie’s gaze was to her lap, focused on her shackled hands on her lap. When was the last time she was contained like this? She assumed when she was first turned, but she couldn’t remember clearly. Despite her thoughts, her smirk never left her face. 

Jack stood above her, his gaze concealed, but his domineering presence not easy to ignore. He walked away from her for, his back now turned to her as he sighed deeply. 

“Do you know how hard we fought to bring you back when you first went missing?”   
He spoke with a solemn authority, and Amélie noticed how his shoulders sank with every word he spoke. He was a defeated man, who grew more tired the more he spoke of the past. 

She didn’t answer him. How could she? She didn’t remember the answer. The silence grew over the room, the only sounds being made being the occasional shift of fabric of the two agents holding their respective weapons to her head. 

He turned and walked over to her swiftly, lowering himself so the solid, red, glow of his visor was at face level with her. 

“Didn’t fight hard at all. Talon handed you back over to us on a silver platter. None the worse for wear. Then two weeks later...we bury one of our highest ranking officers.” 

She finally broke the gaze, her neutral expression shifting to a scowl. Amélie wasn’t here for history lessons. She hadn’t even had the chance to explain exactly why she was here. Yet, the possibility of her having the chance to explain herself and be trusted was dwindling with each twitch of Lena’s itchy trigger finger. And as Jack spoke, Amélie felt that twitch much more frequently than before. 

Jack lifted himself up and sighed.  
“I’m sure it’s not hard to understand our hesitation on welcoming such another conveniently easy rescue.” 

Amélie wanted to snap her neck up to rebuff him, then remembered how much of a bad idea a sudden movement would be. 

Instead she resorted to remaining still. This may be her only chance, because now, she was feeling more pressure being applied from the revolver’s side as well. 

Gérard must have been a touchy subject for the cowboy then. 

“How many Talon bases have been raided this month? 20? 30?” Amélie’s gaze flattened, matching her tone of voice. “Certainly more than last month. What’s happening is a domino effect. Take one base out, shake down a few rats, take down three more bases in the next mission.” 

Jack looked back at her. She didn’t meet his gaze, staring instead dead ahead at the transparent hard light wall. So this was meant to be her prison? Better this than the chopping block, she thought. 

“Am I correct?” She punctuated her question by fixing her gaze on Jack’s tactical visor. He grunted in response. 

She rested back in her chair as slow as possible, making sure to let a coy grin paint her features the further back she leaned. 

But her grin turned into a hiss of pain as Tracer dug in even deeper to the side of Amelie’s head. McCree’s revolver was pushed aside at the sudden aggression. He was about to say something to try and calm Lena, but was cut off. 

“Commander, you cannot seriously be listening to this!” The barrel pressed harder. “This is Widowmaker! She killed Mondatta, mutilated Ana! She’s killed too many to count! We need to just leave her in here to rot!” 

“Get her out of here Jesse!” Jack barked. 

Lena didn’t budge, her eyes firmly set down the lines of pistol, pointing straight to lethality. She could do it now, avenge the deaths of so many innocents. But her trigger finger didn’t leave the side of her gun. She wasn’t even close to the trigger. 

And deep down she knew why. She knew she wasn’t that type of person. She wouldn’t kill in cold blood, stoop down to her quite literally cold-blooded adversary. Her emotions ran hot, that much is true. But her heart was too warm for execution. 

“Come on, Oxton. No good sticking ‘round here no more. Let’s go.” Jesse holstered his trusty six shooter and placed his hand on Lena’s shoulder. 

Her breath became caught in her throat, but she gulped it down. Ultimately she gave in to the gesture, quickly flipping her pistols back into her vambraces. 

Jesse led her to the opening created in the the hard light. Satya must have been watching through the cameras inside the cell. Lena wondered who else might be watching through the lens. 

Before she walked out, she gave one last look back. Her eyes met the golden irises of the assassin. Her stomach dropped as she caught the arrogant grin on Widowmaker’s face. Her face burning from a mix of rage and embarrassment, she forced her stare away towards Jack, who had his back turned to his agents. 

“Hope you know what you’re doing, Morrison. Won’t be giving this one a second chance.”

She only half-believed her own words. 

Amélie’s grin only grew as she spoke in response to Lena. 

“Adieu, chérie.” Amélie winked. Lena’s eyes stuck onto the assassin once again, while her stomach floated with a fluttering sensation she would claim to be nausea. It wasn’t nausea. 

Jack craned his neck to watch the pair walk out together. The hard light cascaded down to close the gap as Jack turned back towards Widowmaker and huffed out loudly. “I’m getting too old for this.” 

He put his hand up to his face, in a move that caught Amélie off guard. He slid the visor off his face, his steely blue eyes and aged lines now visible. He looked so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of giving orders, just…tired. Though she barely knew the man, and remembered his younger self even less, she was able to pick up on all of this just from his appearance alone. And it was a perfect sight for her intentions. 

“Just what do you want anyways? Why are you seemingly turning yourself in like this, so suddenly? Such a high asset as yourself can easily protect yourself. Why come to us when going rouge seems much easier than all…” Jack gestured to the handcuffs that looked too tight. “...this?” 

Amélie was a woman of few emotions. A monotonous tone almost always laced her speech. Now was no different. 

“Going rogue at a time like this is the worst idea one can have. Talon needs all the help they can get. They would desperately hunt me like hounds if it meant I’d be a loyal assassin for them again. Then there’s you. The people who are doing the hunting of those who would hunt me. Once you’d fully dealt with them, you would’ve caught me regardless. I decided to streamline this for you, in order to come to an agreement.” 

Jack ran his fingers through silver hair. He already knew where this was going, though he didn’t like it. “You’re going to take us straight to the top aren’t you? End this war much faster than the pace we’re going at, huh? Well, what do you get out of it?” 

Amélie leaned forward in her seat, wanting to make sure her selling point, the whole purpose of her coming to this god-forsaken organization she still carried distaste for, was received, loud and clear. 

“It’s simple really. I want to be on the winning side. And recent events have shown that clearly, you are the winning side. Not Talon. All I ask for is my freedom, once the dust settles.” She shifted slightly in her handcuffs, which were very redundant considering she was inside a hard-light cell. 

Of course, caution should never be thrown to the wind when the Widowmaker is involved. 

“So then, do we have a deal?”


	2. The Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That sudden moment when you look death in the eyes and realize: "Oh no, she's hot."

Emily tore her gaze away from her blueprints for just a moment. To any other person, the sapphire sea crashing into the rocky cliffs of the Watchpoint were a far more engaging view than the layout for an Omnic outreach center. 

Of course she admired the beauty at the way cerulean tides became coruscating with the low sun. But she was still more interested in her work, her passion. Even so, she could feel with the ache in her upper back and in both wrists, that it was about time for a well-deserved break. 

She interlocked her fingers and raised her arms, stretching high until she felt a satisfying crack of her spine. She got up hoping to spend the rest of her evening enjoying a good book before Lena got back from her duties. Even though her girlfriend was technically on active duty here at the watchpoint, it did feel somewhat like a mini-vacation, considering the breathtaking view and her freedom to ignore her work if she so chose to. 

Grabbing a book off the nightstand, she sprawled herself out on a twin-size that fit one comfortably, and two stubbornly. 

Yet another symbol that this temporary relocation was technically not a vacation. 

Silent reading was almost instantly interrupted by a boisterous, but not unwelcome, high-pitched voice. 

“Bloody brass!” 

With an open and shut door that silently slid, it was very unsatisfying that Lena couldn’t let out some frustration with a strong slam. Instead, she turned to clenching her fists and pacing across the small, shared, quarters. 

Emily continued to glance over the pages. She may no longer be silently reading, but she knew worrying so suddenly over her girlfriend barging in with a hot-head would only make Lena feel worse. Nonchalance, but not disinterest, was always the best approach for these moods. 

“More disobedience, love?” Emily turned the page while letting a smirk tug at her lips. “If you keep it up, we’ll be back to a Queen-size again. That wouldn’t be so bad, actually.” 

Emily’s eyes peeked over the book’s spine to get a read on her girlfriend. Lena moved one arm to run a hand through her spiky hair, the other stood placed firmly at her side. Her face painted itself as a whirlwind of red hot emotion. Frustration, anger, annoyance, resentment, all presently playing their parts on the brunette’s features. Emily was wondering if she should show more concern now, but the thought was interrupted. 

Lena had stopped her pacing, the hand that had ruffled her already unruly spikes now spread across her forehead. The emotions felt just a moment ago seemed to have cooled towards exasperation. 

“She’s here.” She sighed out simply, her hand slipping down from her forehead to her cheek so she could support her head weight against it. Just as Emily thought a moment ago; she’s clearly exasperated. 

Emily’s eyes returned to her book before Lena could see. “She is, is she? Lots of women in the world though, honey-tongue. Gonna need more than that.” 

With that, Lena groaned out her held in breath, flopping down on a bed too small for the both of them, but still managed to perfectly fit her head in Emily’s lap. Not once did Emily’s eyes leave the pages of her novel, but she instinctively placed one of her hands on Lena’s head, absent-mindedly combing her fingers through the chaos that was the brown locks. 

Lena’s own hand however was placed on the bridge of her noise, pinching with all the same tension that was causing her headache. 

“It’s her, Em. It’s her.” She placed emphasis on her last spoken word, knowing Emily would know exactly who she meant. Her eyes widened as they finally left the pages of the book she had already stopped reading by then, instead focusing them on Lena’s face. Her eyes were open wide, blankly staring ahead towards the smooth white ceiling above them. She’s deep in thought, deeper than Emily had seen her since…

Since she came home after Mondatta was murdered. 

“Oh…” 

Emily knew how to deal with Lena’s anger usually. A hot cuppa, a weighted blanket, and a night of cheesy 2010s-era rom-coms. The “antidote” as they both had dubbed it. Even work-related stress was no match for it. Yet, when it came to circumstances involving this assassin—this Widowmaker, as Emily has only known her by—the usual didn’t work. Because this wasn’t usual Lena anger. This was something entirely different. 

Contempt? No. It wasn’t that harsh. If this Widowmaker was below consideration, she wouldn’t be considered so much by her girlfriend. 

Maybe it was hatred. Lena had mentioned how much she hated this mysterious woman before. Yet it never sounded like Lena really hated Widowmaker either. Even after the Mondatta shooting. There was no hatred behind her words. There was only….

Guilt. That’s what this was. Emily looked Lena in her thousand-yard stares after each encounter with the Widowmaker. And all there ever was, was guilt. 

When Lena broke out of her thoughts, Emily already had her eyes back on the book she wasn’t reading. 

“I hate that she’s here and I just have to stand by it. I hate that she always somehow finds a way to slither into my life like some bloody cobra!” The brunette punctuated her words with a hiss, that Emily couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at. 

Emily’s eyes were taken off the page again, looking at the absolutely adorable pout adorning the ace-pilot beneath her; her hand still continuing to play with the spikes of Lena’s hair. One of her reddish-brown eyebrows curved upwards in amused befuddlement. 

“I thought her call sign had something to do with a spider?” She asked. 

“Spiders, snakes…” Lena counted on her fingers before crossing her arms down on her chest with a huff. “Same difference. Both revolting.” 

With that, Emily finally shut her book with a tsk. “Honey-tongue, just let this be. There’s no need to interact with her in those cells, anyway. And no need to worry about things you obviously can’t change.”

Two thumps added together created a powerful vibration on the spring mattress, the force originating from Lena slamming her closed fists down.

“But that’s exactly the thing! That I can’t change anything! It’s the principle of the matter! How can I just sit here and do nothing, as she sits in that cell, knowing she won? She’s going to get off scot-free. All her crimes, all her murders….” 

Emily noticed her lover’s brow furrow more intensely than before, her jaw jutted out as her teeth gritted down hard. 

“…they’re all going to have been carried out with impunity.” She finished, through those same clenched teeth. 

Maybe there was some hate there. At the very least, there was very open animosity. 

Lena’s scowl melted as she realized just exactly how harsh she was being. Emily’s eyes on hers said it all. Emily had never seen that side of her before. It was scaring her. And in all honesty, it scared Lena too. 

But she was right. She knew she was right. 

….right?

“I’m…” Lena started as she picked herself up from the bed, her whole body feeling drained. “I’m going to take a shower. I need to cool down.” 

Emily nodded in agreement as she watched Lena gather some clothes from their shared room. She needed some time to herself too, to think, to understand the anger that Lena had held within her. But maybe, there was no way for her to understand either. 

She remembered how she felt when Lena came back to their flat in King’s Row, after the Mondatta incident. When she saw the state of the chronal-accelerator, her blood froze in her veins in a flash of cold fear. That’s all she felt. Helpless, scared, thinking that she was going to lose Lena to another state of here-again, gone-again. And she did admit, she hated the person who hurt her like that. This Widowmaker, had nearly made her a widow herself. 

But when the ordeal was all over, more than anything, Emily wanted to understand why. Why would someone do this? It’s the very question that Lena had asked to the assassin, but she didn’t know that. 

She thought she was alone in her natural curiosity. 

Her stupor was broken when Lena started with an “And hey, Em?” 

Emily’s pair of hazel eyes widened as she looked towards Lena’s voice. Her brows still furrowed, but this time more in focus, than in anger. 

“Whatever you do, stay away from those holding cells. Stay away from her. I would not put it beneath her, to manipulate you, just to undermine me. She would not hesitate to hurt you or…” Lena’s expression pained for a moment, her eyes shutting closed forcefully, only relaxing after exhaling a shaky breath. “Or worse.” 

Emily felt a chill travel down her spin with those last words. All she could do was nod in agreement, her mouth refusing to work when her mouth went dry. Lena left with a quiet, “Love you,” the sound of the sliding door leaving Emily in complete silence. 

\---------------------------------------------------

“We really should speak more, liebling. Preferably at a time when the effects of these wear-off.” Dr. Ziegler handed a sleeping pill to Emily as she blushed and tugged at her collar in nervous embarrassment. 

“I know, I know.” She replied with a bashful smile. “Guess I’m just the kind of person that gets so involved in their work that I forget I haven’t left the living quarter all day!” 

“Well, I suppose that we have in common. Fareeha is the one usually snatching me away from here to visit the mess hall at least once for a break.” Angela sighed with a chuckle. “I imagine Lena is the same way with you.” 

Emily’s shoulders slumped as she let herself relax a bit. Dr. Ziegler really did seem a motherly type. She made note to take her up on her offer and visit her more often. “You don’t know the half of it.” 

The medic chuckled again and shook her head. “Well, don’t want to keep you then, especially if you need to sleep. Make sure to take that with a full glass of water, it’s quite potent.” 

“Thank you so much again, Dr. Ziegler.” 

“Ah ah,” The blonde woman raised her a hand and a wagged a finger. “Call me Angela. No need for such formality here!” 

Emily nodded. “Thank you, Angela.” 

She had just been about out the door, capsule in hand, before stopping with nearly a skid. She stood at the threshold for a moment before turning back towards the doctor, still tapping away at the projected keyboard in front of her. Emily’s breath was still, hesitation stopping any forward progress. 

In the end, Emily’s curiosity always wins that battle. 

“Doctor…Angela?” She corrected herself. 

Angela looked up at the red-head, surprised at her still being in the room. 

“Yes? Do you have a question about the medicine, schatz?” 

“No, no. I mean, I have a question. Just about something different. Something Lena told me.”

Angela’s eyebrow raised in a questioning glance, and Emily wondered for a brief moment if this was going against her girlfriend’s trust. Should she do this? 

“I...er. You know what, nevermind. It’s nothing really. Thank you again for this, really!” She exclaimed, holding her pill tablet up. 

She turned and left before having to look at the bewildered state she left the doctor in. Angela blinked away the confusion eventually, to continue clacking away at patient profiles. 

Emily on the other hand had not recovered so quickly, her pace basically at a jog down the base’s nearly endless hallways to put distance between her and the awkwardness she created. God, how could she be that bold? To nearly go behind Lena’s back and ask one of her allies and closest friends where she could find this Widowmaker character and get a look at her herself! She needs to know better than that, she should know better than that! 

Shouldn’t she? 

She had just figured, that to really understand Lena’s troubles, she should meet the woman responsible for them. Maybe then she’d really fathom how a person can be so evil, that it’d make the bubbly Lena Oxton’s mood change so drastically. 

‘Or maybe it’s because her warning just intrigued you so much more?’ Emily stopped when such a question came to mind. Was that really the reason? Did Lena inadvertently stoke the flames of Emily’s inquisitive mind? 

It wouldn’t have been the first time. Not when it came to the nemesis in question. 

The sounds of heavy footsteps startled Emily out of her head, as she quickly ducked behind a random corner of the hallway before they came any closer. 

“Yes, sir. Detainee is being fully compliant. Cross-referencing her intel with ours has already led to the discovery of multiple Talon front-ends. Athena recorded all conversations for records.” 

It was Fareeha, she recognized the voice from a brief meeting when she arrived on the base. And the direction she was walking in was straight towards the med-bay. She’s most likely retrieving the good doctor from another late night in her office. 

“I copy.” She continued. Emily peaked her head out from the corner, noticing that the stoic soldier had walked out a door leading to a lower level of the base. Emily ducked her head back just as Fareeha continued to walk towards her. “Passcodes to the holding cells will be reset as is daily procedure Agent Pharah, out.”

Fareeha walked right pass her; quite unusual for the woman. Her leaving her guard down just enough to miss her had to be a product of her being excited to get to the med bay at the end of a long day. It was exactly the chance Emily had needed, and who was she to ignore the signs?

As she watched her walk out of earshot, Emily made long strides towards the sliding door leading to the cells, barely being able to roll in just before they slid closed and she was locked out. She wiped herself off as she got up, and turned back towards the door that had just shut. A number pad requesting a six digit code glowed next to the door. 

‘Nice one, Emily. Now you’re stuck in here with the dangerous killer lady.’ She scolded herself. 

One step at a time, she supposed. 

She carefully made her way down the stairs, feeling as though each step was amplified by the silence of the room. 

She made her way to the bottom, seeing the rows of luminescent hard-light cells before her. This was the moment her doubts that had plagued her in the back of her mind came crashing forward. It was her, only her and hopefully only one very dangerous individual. She hadn’t even considered there might be other prisoners here, and a huge part of her very much wanted to turn back now. 

She looked up the staircase she just descended from, then turned back to the holding cells.

No. No turning back now. She had to understand. 

A sharp inhale got her legs moving again, down the tiers of captivity. She looked up and down each cell she came across, each one barren, each one filling her with relief. 

She arrived at the last cell, the largest cell. A huge photonic barrier shimmered down in front of her, between her and a simple room. The size of it almost reminded her of her own living quarters. Were it not for the not so private loo, it was hard to spot any difference.

It looked empty. Was there really no one here? She must have already taken the sleeping pill, that was it. This was all just a dream and she would wake up right about—

“Tiens, tiens. What have we here? Une mouche? A nosey little thing, where she doesn’t belong.”

Golden eyes pierced out of the darkness as Emily’s heart, breathing, thinking, halted to a complete stop. 

They narrowed at her and she only was able to catch one fleeting, invasive, rumination.

“She’s beautiful.”


End file.
